Heroes
by Wildcard999
Summary: Appearances can be deceiving. The villain of the story isn’t always obvious.
1. Heroes 1

This was _going_ to be an entry into the action writing challenge set up by Rhea Silverkeys in the Writer's Anonymous forum, but I took WAY too long trying to write it. Oh well. Enjoy.

Special thanks to my lovely beta, Eenak!

* * *

"Ah shit!" I jerk my head down just as the top of the crate shielding me explodes. Dusting the bits of wooden shrapnel from my hair, I turn to the deadly beauty next to me. "What the hell is going on?"

"Just keep your head down!"

I can barely hear her over the gunfire, but what really pisses me off is that she never even looked at me. She just kept on shooting, her head buried in the wood. I take a second to consider pointing out she might have better luck if her eyes were actually open. It occurs to me that if her head gets blown off, I don't get answers, but my mouth is already moving.

"You know, I don't think you're going to hit anything that way. You can't even see what you're shooting at!"

I wait for an answer, but she doesn't even flinch. Maybe she didn't hear me? I go to touch her shoulder, but a curt command freezes me inches away from her.

"Don't touch me!"

Sagging back against the crate, I try to think up a plan to get away from her and the bullets, and back to my apartment.

"Ah!" Another bullet chips shards of wood off my only protection. Inspecting the damage, I notice a glint of light in the hole. I probe it with my finger and yank it back instantly. It's hot! Hot metal under a normal-looking, wooden shipping crate. Am I missing something here?

"Are you hurt?"

I glance at Agent Silverson to see a look of real concern in her eyes.

"Um, yeah. I just…got a splinter." Something is going on here, but I'm not so sure I should let on that I'm suspicious.

Instantly forgotten, I return to running over my very short list of options, and very long list of possible circumstances. It also occurs to me that she is trying really hard to protect me, but couldn't seem to care less that I exist. I don't get it.

Agent Silverson's shots suddenly get more frequent, and the other guys only fire three or four shots in quick succession. I think I also pick out scuffling, but it's hard to tell with all the noise; I think the enemy is repositioning. That isn't good. I debate hazarding a look, but a hand on my shoulder diverts my attention.

"Don't."

She still hasn't deigned it necessary to look at me.

"Don't what?"

My cross reply is ignored in favor of more gunfire. So what else is new?

My eyes scan around at the section of warehouse in my purview, and I notice a shadow cast on a stack of crates. The metal shipping containers next to them block my view of the shadow's owner, but I think it's safe to say I won't like to meet him. I reach a hand over to alert my protector.

"Hey, Agent—"

Bang! Packing material explodes from a hole in one of the metal shipping containers the shadow is hiding behind. It takes a second for me to realize I stopped breathing; I look down, and find out why.

"Oh my God." I stare at the glistening wet spot wreathing the small, red hole in my stomach. I don't know why, but I touch the growing stain with my hand and verify that it is, indeed, real blood. All I can really think about is that I will be, yet again, standing up Dana. At least I have a good excuse this time. _Think she'll forgive something like this?_

—oOo—

_Yesterday_

"…so while I'm tying these guys up, I hear a noise and when I turned around, I swear I saw something."

"Maybe it was just your imagination?" She and I both know that's unlikely. But as serious as this is, she had to ask anyway.

_I wish it was. But I know what I saw. Something was there._

"No way. I know being Batman makes me a little paranoid, but this isn't the first time I saw it. Max, I think someone's been following me."

My best friend, Max, and I are sitting in her apartment, just hanging out. Idly studying her hot-pink hair, I await the brilliant solution she is sure to have. No matter what, Max always seems to have an answer, or at least be able to make me feel better. After a minute or two, she fields her suggestion.

"Well, have you tried throwing a batarang at it?" She stares at me expectantly as I stare back in disbelief.

_Did she really just ask me that?_

I burst out laughing.

"Is that really necessary?" The irritation in her voice is unmistakable, but it's too late, I'm already way past restraint.

I manage to briefly part my eyelids for a quick glance before giving myself over to the laughter again. Arms crossed and brow furrowed, I can just see her jaw set as my laughter worsens.

"Hey, McGinnis, I can't think of anything else. Unless Wayne's got some fancy gadget in the cave, there isn't much you can do!" My friend is pretty upset with me for laughing at her, and the joke is starting to lose its humor. Truth be told, I think most of that was just tension from weeks of looking over my shoulder all the time. Before this mystery stalker showed up, we had gotten an email directly to the Batcomputer from a 'shadowbird322' that delivered a virus Bruce couldn't even make heads or tails of. Now a small chunk of the computer's hard drive is floating around out there. Thankfully nothing really important got out, but someone that powerful has got to know something. So I've been on my toes for nearly a month, with no outlet. I feel bad for laughing at Max, but I really needed it—almost all the tension is gone.

"…unless…" My closest friend rubs her brown chin thoughtfully.

Instantly alert, I clear the tears from my eyes and focus all my attention on Max.

"What?"

"Well, if you happened to be somewhere that has a camera, you can just hack the network and look for an angle that catches this 'shadow' of yours. And did you ever try using that schway camouflage ability to lose it before you went home?"

"Every night. I'm not taking chances."

Cameras. How could I miss that? No way the old man would've. _That's why you go to Max, McGinnis. You may miss the obvious, but she doesn't._

My problem solved, Max and I use the rest of the time to chat and have fun. All of twenty minutes later, it's time for me to leave for my job at Wayne's.

Ostensibly, I'm just Bruce Wayne's personal assistant. And chauffeur. And maid. And whatever else he needs me to be. But after the first few hours, I become Batman and fly the patrols looking for crimes to stop and victims to save. It's not so much that I mind the other work, but being a superhero is so much more schway.

After another night of crime fighting, I curl up in my soft, warm bed and surrender to sleep. My mind drifts, like a raft floating down a calm creek. Images swirl around in my head and I think of nothing as they form incoherent storylines that progress from beginning to end, saying nothing of consequence. Being Batman, sleep is a luxury, and I am inevitably woken up way too soon several nights a week. This is one of those nights.

I awake to a hand over my mouth.

"Mhm-mpf!" I snap back to reality as fast as I can and struggle against my attacker. I open my eyes to find icy blue ones staring hard into mine.

"Shh. Don't yell."

The beautiful, night-haired woman waits a few seconds for me to calm down before pulling away and letting me up. She looks away just as I start to ask her what she wants.

"Get dressed." She completely ignores my question and continues to stare intently at my bedroom door. "There's no time to explain. Someone is after you and I am here to protect you."

Skeptical, I figure I'll at least have the suit with me if things go south, but the enigmatic woman yanks me to my window the minute my second shoe is on. I watch my backpack recede into darkness as I'm pulled out onto the moonlit fire escape.

"Let's go."

Not even waiting for me to obey, she drags me down the ladder with her.

"Hold on! You haven't even told me your name!"

"Agent Valerie Silverson. I work for the FBI. We have reason to believe someone may try to take you soon. I'm here to preempt them."

—oOo—

Agent Silverson had rushed me to an apartment across town in the middle of the night. I am tired and the bed I'd seen through the doorway is calling me, but I am scared too, and the last thing I want to do is give her an opportunity to do something to me.

"Who is after me?"

The woman focuses her attention on me for the first time since I got up. She doesn't answer, so I elaborate.

"You said someone was—"

"We don't know."

I gape at her incredulously, unconvinced that the FB fraggin' I could know a guy is after me, but not even have an idea of who.

She doesn't take the hint, and instead strides over to a laptop I just noticed on the moonlit dining table. The furnishings of the apartment are sparse but functional and when I take a good look at Agent Silverson, I notice her clothes are just as boring, with that simple suit you expect all government agents to wear. Hers doesn't even have a feminine twist to it!

"So…how long have you worked for the FBI?"

I stand there behind her for a few seconds before I start to feel stupid waiting for an answer that obviously will never come. I've seen that look of intense concentration before from Bruce, and if either of them ever heard me, they never had any intention of answering.

So I sit on the couch for the next hour, not even noticing when I drift off to sleep.

I had a great dream. Dana and I were dancing in an enormous courtyard. The moonlight shone off her hair and caught her eyes, making them twinkle. She was wearing that white dress again…she is so hot in that dress. There was music playing in the background; I don't know where it was coming from, but it was soft and romantic. I spin Dana around once and lean her back. Her hair falls away from her face and she giggles, her nose crinkling in that really cute way. I gaze into her glistening, black eyes and she gazes back into mine. My heart races as I close in for a—

"Get up."

"Ah! What?" A firm hand on my shoulder shakes me violently and my head swirls as I zoom back to reality. Painful, disappointing reality. Someone out there must really hate me.

"Get up. I need to move you. It isn't safe to stay anywhere too long."

Agent Silverson is already—or maybe still—dressed and circling the room with a cloth, wiping everything down. Fingerprints. She's leaving nothing to chance.

"Exactly what kind of proof do you have that someone's after me?" I know that someone has been following me, but for all I know, it was her.

She stops in her tracks and her head turns slowly to scowl menacingly at me. I've only ever seen a glare that intimidating from the old man, Bruce. I decide to drop the subject and hope she does the same.

My…'guardian'…wipes down the couch I was crashing on—for some reason—as I wait by the door, debating whether or not to ask her to get my backpack—or better yet, let me get it.

Agent Silverson leads me out to the street and we get into a black hovercar. We drive onto a freeway and head towards the edge of Gotham City.

Now I'm starting to worry.

"Where, uh…where are we going?" My voice is starting to show the stress; I can hear Bruce yelling at me about how quick that could get me scragged.

"I'm taking you to another location."

A few seconds later, I realize that was the end of her response.

"Yeah, but where?"

"…Not Gotham."

_Yeah, that's helpful._

Sulking, I resign myself to not get any answers and decide to just learn what I can by watching.

—oOo—

_Today_

I am out of it, but Agent Silverson really seems to know what to do. The minute she saw the blood leaking out of my shirt, she had shot three holes through the same shipping container hiding my killer. Then she had pushed me onto my back, pulled up my shirt and pressed her hands into the wound. It really hurt when she did that.

"Ow! Hey, easy."

"Shh…" She closes her eyes for a few seconds while I stare, trying to come up with a train of thought. Somehow, I manage to spend the entire time thinking of nothing.

"Feel better?"

I'm about to say something sarcastic like 'how can I feel better with a bullet in my stomach', but before I can say anything, I realize that I do feel better. All the pain is gone, and when I look down, so is the wound itself. There isn't even a hole in my shirt.

"How'd you…hey!"

She's already running off to check the other body.

I get up to follow her, but a spray of bullets changes my mind. I watch her turn the guy over, looking for something, but frustrated by not finding it. Still turned away from me, she doesn't see the arms erupt from the crate behind me and drag me kicking and silently screaming into the floor.

—oOo—


	2. Heroes 2

I wake up with a blindfold over my eyes. I'm lying on the floor bound and gagged. My movements draw a response; one ear to the coarse, carpeted floor, I can hear footsteps stride over to me.

"He's up," A male voice calls.

Another, possibly in a different room, answers back.

"I know."

"Right, I forgot; you're the best and you know everything. No offense, but I'm not so sure you're as godlike as you seem."

After a few seconds of silence, the second voice whispers quietly, "I never said I was a god."

One of them shoves my shoulder to the side to push me onto my back and yanks my blindfold down roughly.

"Do you know why you're here?"

The dark-haired man's face is calm and friendly, but after being shot and kidnapped by these guys, I know better. I do my best to memorize his somewhat handsome face for when I escape. Staring into his blue eyes, I think I notice something…off. But he looks away.

"What did she tell you?"

My gag is still in place, so all I can do is wonder how this guy expects to get any information out of me.

"I'm telepathic. The gag is just so no one else hears you. Now, what did Copycat say to you?"

_Copycat?…Agent Silverson? Well, she does have powers…I guess she was a superhero._

"Not even close."

My eyes slide off the covered window in the background and back onto my kidnapper. All the humor had gone from him. Somehow still friendly, the somber expression on his face leaves a worried one on my own. Who are these two? What do they have against each other? And why does it involve me?

"It involves you because she decided to involve you. I really have nothing against you, but for some reason, she just can't seem to leave you alone. Sorry." The sympathy this young man is expressing for me isn't faked, and it doesn't seem like something a criminal with any malicious intent would have. But if they both care so much about my well-being, why are they fighting over me? And why did one of them try to kill me?

"Kill you? Ha! Yeah right; not with a shapeshifter around."

I watch in amazement as the now jovial man tries to stifle laughter. His friend in the background doesn't even try though, and laughs long and loud.

The first guy notices the confusion on my face and clarifies.

"That was just a distraction. Darren shot you to pull her away so that I could grab you. Now, do you know why I took you?"

"Dude, I really don't think he knows. I mean, come on. You know she's good. Whatever she said, it must'a been convincing."

"Yeah, I'm starting think it isn't just the bullet that convinced him we were the bad guys." He faces me again and sighs. "So what did she tell you? Are we known criminals, or just dangerous people she was trying to protect you from?"

Blue-Eyes awaits my mental answer, but I'm still trying to figure out which one is lying. They can't both be the good guys…unless there is a third party after me…

"I suppose we can't really exclude that as an option, but it's not likely. Four shapeshifters in the same area never happens."

_Four? But I thought—_

"Come on, what was it?"

He's getting frustrated with me now, but I'm getting frustrated too. I've gotten no answers, yet they expect me to keep giving them. _You want to know? Tell me who—_

"Dick Grayson, now answer the damn question!"

I stare at him for a second, searching my brain for a reference, but despite the name sounding familiar, I can't remember anything specific.

_All she said was that someone was after me._

"Did she say who?"

_No, just someone._

Dick and Darren exchange glances and silently come to some sort of decision.

"Can you keep quiet?"

Several thoughts flash through my head at once, but I try to quiet them before he can hear. _That question…if he's really going to…I could…_

"I really wouldn't try that. Escaping from a shapeshifter isn't all the easy. Or fun."

"I don't know. I might have fun."

Darren still seems to think this is all just some kind of game or prank. He's just having fun.

Dick looks over his shoulder at his accomplice.

"Heh. Yeah, hunting is fun. But being hunted? Not so much."

_Hunting humans is wrong._

Dick glares at me. "You want to talk or what? Promise me you won't try anything and I'll untie you. Otherwise, it's just going to make both our lives harder."

We lock eyes, challenging one another's fortitude but I eventually give in. I've got no powers, no suit and no hope of beating anybody. At least if he unties me I can feel a little more in control. It'll be a relief to finally get the rough rope off my skin.

"Hunting humans is wrong," I repeat after the gag is removed. I know. I can't beat them, but maybe I can antagonize them?

"We don't hunt humans, Ter. That was just a metaphor."

_I'm getting to him._ I smirk at my first victory since this whole mess started. Dick isn't exactly happy, but all I get is a quick scowl.

"So what now, Dick?" Darren patiently awaits an answer.

Now that I'm mobile and Dick's face isn't stuffed in mine anymore, I can get a better view of Darren. He's blond, young and around eighteen or twenty. His expression is a lot like what I see on many Jokerz I fight, minus the perverse humor: blank and clueless, with a touch of innocence. This is his first time kidnapping someone.

"Now…Now we find out what Copycat's really after…"

—oOo—

It's been six hours. I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm bored. And I'm feeling very uncomfortable being used as bait.

I've been standing in the middle of a cluttered street being jostled and knocked around for the last six hours. Dick thinks that leaving me out in the open will draw her out. She'll find me and try to take me. I really don't want to be taken, especially considering Dick's reaction when I suggested she might be a hero. She is bad—very bad. Not the kind of person I want to meet and especially not the kind of person I want to be left as bait for.

And yet…

When I was with her, yeah she treated me like I didn't even exist, but when I got hurt she was there for me. And that metal in the wooden shipping container…did Dick do that? No, there was more than one gun firing from the other side, so he couldn't have been hiding in the floor the whole time. But how did he even get into the floor? I did see something like that one time—a reporter named Peek got a belt to vibrate his molecules through solid objects—but gravity still had an effect on him. Dick, on the other hand, had come up through the floor. So what does this all mean?

"It means I have no idea what's going on around here, that's what."

"True. Very true."

I whirl around at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Wayne!"

"Yes. Where have you been?" Bruce turns and starts back down the alley he must have come from and I follow. It occurs to me to wonder why he didn't park on the street when we come face to face with Dick.

"Hello." "…Dick…?" Wayne is completely surprised but apparently he knows him.

"Yes, it's me, old man. Problem?" By Dick's reaction, I'm guessing they weren't friends.

"You're…young."

"You can cut the crap. I know who you are." Dick advances on the old man, but Wayne backs up. I'm not sure why, but I decide to intervene.

"Hold on! Back off, Dick."

"Terry, let me handle this," he warns.

"No! I don't know you and I don't trust you! I'm not going to let you hurt Wayne. I don't care if you think you're one of the good guys—you aren't to me!"

Dick is surprised by my outburst, but his eyes slide off me and glare at my mentor, narrowing almost to slits.

"Terry, I need you to listen to me. That isn't Bruce Wayne. He looks like Bruce, sounds like Bruce and can even answer any question as though he was Bruce. But it's not him. He's a shapeshift—"

Click.

Dick's eyes grow wide as I hear a gun cocking next to my ear. I turn to my left, just in time to see the last of Wayne's features fade into Agent Silverson. _It's her! She tricked me!_

"Stay calm Terry. I told you someone was after you. Looks like we found him." Her calm and confident demeanor remains unshaken.

_Maybe she can't hear my thoughts like Dick can?_

"Put the gun down, Copycat. I'm—"

"I am not Copycat. My name is Agent Silverson, and you are under arrest for kidnapping," she hisses venomously.

Dick studies her incredulously.

"You're kidding." The two lock eyes for about a half second, and then Dick surprisingly starts to grin. "Give me a break. Terry, come on. We're leaving."

"No, you're not." Readjusting her grip on the gun, she reminds Dick it's still pointed at his chest.

"Copycat, there is a street full of people watching. You and I both know it'll be bad for you if they see something."

"It'll be bad for you too."

"True, but I'm pretty good at getting out of bad situations. I'm wily." Dick smirks, sure that he's won.

I'm starting to get tired of this staring match. They're both pretty much ignoring me and I hate it. If all they're going to do is talk, then I'm going to have to end this standoff myself!

"You may be wily, Dick, but I'm just plain good."

Agent Silverson squeezes the trigger, but I'm already moving. Throwing my full weight into her, I knock her to the ground as I simultaneously grab for the gun. I think her shot went wild because I don't hear any screams of agony, just shock and horror.

"Terry! What the hell are you doing? Get away from her!"

Agent Silverson and I are still struggling for her gun when a powerful force suddenly takes hold of my entire body and wrenches me away from her. I lose my grip on the gun, but so does she. Flipping through the air, I miss most of what happens next, but when I finally gain my footing again, they're running by me, deeper into the alley. They only go about fifteen feet before Agent Silverson, in the lead somehow, pivots to throw several ninja stars at Dick. Faster than I've ever seen a human move, Dick dodges them, even catching a couple in his hands and throwing them back, all in fluid movements. Part of me idly compares the sight to a dance, like ballet, but the rest of me decides to hit the deck before the ninja stars hit me.

Agent Silverson follows up the flurry of ninja stars with an odd shockwave attack. The energy rushes toward Dick as a wall of force; it seems to fold around him and pass harmlessly by while it shears off chips of brick from the alley walls. I turn tail and run, but quickly discover that the hole Dick made in the energy wave is still there. I feel a breeze as the energy blows past me and fizzles out a few feet ahead. Chips of brick and mortar sting my face, but I count my blessings and keep running for the street, leaving the sounds of battle behind me.

Still running, I search wildly for a vidphone. Dick and Agent Silverson have each other occupied right now, but I still haven't seen Darren, and for all I know, I'm more important than the fight. Hopefully I can call Wayne and at least get him to send the Batjet to pick me up. I need to get back to my apartment to grab the suit before these two nutcases disappear on me. Sighing with relief, I race up to a vidphone I just spotted outside a pawn shop. I dial Wayne Manor and wait for the old man to pick up.

"Terry! Where have you been? Your friend called and said you didn't show up to school!"

Wayne is angry, but I think somewhere, deep down, he actually cares. And I remember the last time he heard I hadn't been to school. Someone was trying to kill me then too.

"I know, I'm sorry. Something's going on. Some girl grabbed me from my apartment last night. She said she was FBI, but I'm not so sure now. Then this other guy grabbed me and now they're tearing up an alley on the east side."

For a second, I think I see a flicker of worry flash across his face, but it's hard to tell with the old man. Either way, I can't do anything about that right now. Gotham—and anything that threatens it—comes first.

"I'm sending the car to your position. Think you can handle it?"

"I'd like to say yes, but they've got some major firepower. I'm really not sure. You should call Gordon just in case." I feel embarrassed admitting I need backup, but these shapeshifters are heavy-hitters, and if I can't take them out, I need to know someone else will.

"Alright. And Terry, be careful."

"Always." I smile with pride. _He does care. _

I know he's just my boss, but sometimes he feels like more. We've been working closely for so long…I guess it's only natural for a bond to form. Sometimes…sometimes he feels like a second dad. Silly, I know, but the way my life had been going before Wayne and I met, I think I needed one.

The car arrives within minutes of our conversation, but the Batsuit is still in my room where I left it. Checking around to make sure no one is watching, I hop into the driver's seat and take off for my apartment. I'm half way there when I realize I should be checking to see if anyone is following me.

"Slag it!" It's hard to tell, but the corner of my eye swears it sees someone jump over the street when I make a hard right. I am being followed.

Gritting my teeth, I brace myself for a wild ride. Up, down, left and right, I change direction every couple seconds. I cut tightly around several buildings and doubled back several times. I even drop far below Gotham's soaring walkways and thoroughfares, right down to the original streets of old Gotham. Checking behind me, I confirm no shadows are following me, then pull up and race back home.

I park on the roof and come down the fire escape. My window is still wide open. Guess mom didn't have time to make my bed yet.

I pop in and snatch my backpack off the floor, ready to yank the Batsuit out. I'm about to put it on when I hear a soft knocking at my door.

"Terry? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah mom! I'm, um, just…on my way out!" I call through the door. I wait to hear if she walks away.

Instead, she opens the door.

"Terry, where have you been, honey?" My mom looks normal enough, concerned and completely ignorant of what I really do at night, but something about her really creeps me out.

I try to shake it off._ My mom? Creepy? Come on, McGinnis, pull it together. Don't lose it just because you're being chased by a bunch of…_

I watch in horror as my mom's ruby-red hair and porcelain-white skin darken to a deep ebony.

_Copycat…_


End file.
